Love - Lost & Found
by elektra30
Summary: She had everything while he had lost it all. Now when it's her turn to lose something - can he find it for her? Written for H&V Treasured Tropes challenge.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** In its use of intellectual property and characters belonging to JK Rowling, Warner Bros, Bloomsbury Publishing, et cetera, this work is intended to be transformative commentary on the original. No profit is being made from this work.

**Warnings: **Adultery & mild profanity. Please do not read if you're uncomfortable with the topic of infidelity, although I promise to deal with it through layered characterisation and not character bashing.

Written for Flaming Moth of Doom's prompt: "Hermione discovers Ron's been cheating on her with the last person she'd ever expect. She goes to her friend Draco for support, but he finds that being supportive is a lot trickier than he'd expected... because he wants her, too."

* * *

_She sits on her bed and lets her eyes wander around the room. Their room. But this entire room is filled with her presence; none of his. All the little trinkets are her decorations, the layout her idea, the smell her scent. There are a couple of their photos, but he thinks he looks nothing like the earnest, youthful, smiling boy in them anymore._

_She has to agree._

-.-.-.-.-.-

Hermione makes her way down the staircase quickly, only stopping for a second to smooth out her fringe in the mirror, then bustles through the corridor. She snatches her coat off the rack and shrugs it on, then flips open her pocket watch and lets out a frustrated growl.

"Are we ready to go?!" she yells up the staircase. "Any later and we'll be queuing up to get in!"

There's a loud crash and thump, followed by a bunch of curse words. Hermione takes to pacing up and down the corridor until five minutes later, Ron bustles down the stairs still swearing under his breath, with his shirt untucked, tie undone, hair mussed and papers slipping out of his files. Just before he nearly stumbles, Hermione rushes over to take a couple of files from him. The papers, however, don't remain within the pile.

"Oh bother!" Hermione groans as she kneels to collect all the loose sheets. "How many times must I tell you to pack your documents the night before so that _this _doesn't have to happen?"

"It's not my fault!" grumbles Ron as he snatches the papers from Hermione. "I have Shacklebolt to thank for constantly sending me on midnight missions so I don't even get a _night before _to spare for packing!"

Hermione throws him a deep glare. "You're always the one getting asked! Just because we were the poster children for such efforts doesn't mean we need to be the poster adults for it!"

Ron doesn't look at her as he grumbles, "Well, it's bloody money to be earned, innit?"

Hermione grits her teeth, then packs together the last sheets and dumps it into his arms. "For Merlin's sake, get that tie and shirt in order! You won't want Professor McGonagall regretting that she had let you graduate!"

She expects some kind of retort, but Ron is already heading towards the fireplace with his files still askew. Hermione doesn't say a word more; she follows suit, only to be greeted with a puff of green smoke.

She comes out just after Ron to the entrance of the Ministry, where a small queue is already forming to register all employees. Security had been tightened after a few miscreants breached the system and attempted to impersonate some employees (Harry had delivered the news to his department with red-tinged cheeks). With an important visit today, the checks are longer than usual.

While Ron uses the time to primp himself, Hermione let her eyes wander around the place that she had been working at for over three years. Things had certainly changed; the air of dread, suspicion and even death (the Dementors reeked of it) had long dissipated. Now, everybody was back to a clockwork routine of being plain busy and - Hermione has to admit, even herself - rather colourless.

Following the end of the War, the Ministry had created a new 'task force' and invited Harry, Ron and Hermione to be part of it as 'advisors' given their role in the War. Nobody referred to them by their official designations though, for they were always affectionately termed as the 'Golden Trio'. Ron was now fairly used to the routine of being greeted and treated with a great deal of reverence and found it a great ego-booster for his everyday work. Harry found it slightly discomfiting, but didn't seem to take much offence to it in general. Hermione, on the other hand, thoroughly hated the scrutiny and lack of privacy. She knew there was a special squad of members placed around them at all times to ensure maximum protection for the three of them, but it felt more like a cuff on her own hand rather than any potential criminal's. This led her to prefer staying in the sanctuary of her office delving into research and only making the occasional trips outside to surface more information.

Right now, Ron is already making his way through the crowd. Hermione almost wants to catch up to adjust his messy stack of files, but she loses sight of him within seconds.

"Where's Ron?" Harry appears by her side.

Hermione instinctively flinches. She hates being asked that question.

Simply because most of the time, she has no idea.

-.-.-.-.-.-

_She wakes up in the middle of the night with the other half of the bed cold and empty. She trudges out to the sitting room and sits by the fireplace, picking at her nails. She pours herself a glass of Firewhisky. By her third glass, she can feel the room spinning even though she hasn't moved an inch. She hopes that he would appear then, take the glass out of her hand, kiss her forehead and coax her to bed. She hopes and hopes and hopes, and the person that appears next has a mop of red hair that makes her cry out in relief._

_But it isn't him. The news that come next is unsurprising, yet it completely shatters her._

-.-.-.-.-.-

"Somewhere – over there." Hermione waves her hand about dismissively.

"Professor McGonagall will be here any moment and he's milling around?" Harry frowns.

"He'll come. Anyway, it feels strange to be greeting her so formally," says Hermione with a sigh.

"You know all formalities dissipate with privacy." Harry puts a reassuring hand on her shoulder.

"Not when many of them are still sensitive about the role Hogwarts had played in the War," mutters Hermione. "Some of these people here still think we have to draw the line well between our sentimental attachment to the school, and the fact that the school may need a review..."

"It's not a fact," says Harry, adamantly. "Hermione, surely you don't agree with those barmy blokes."

"I'm talking about being sensible Ministry employees and that entails taking into account all stakeholders' perspectives," Hermione protests.

"Sorry, but that doesn't sound very appealing to me at the moment," mutters Harry, as one by one, the Hogwarts staff members appear at the Ministry fireplace. "Because look who's in tow."

"Come on, Harry," says Hermione, eyeing the familiar blond mop of hair behind Professor McGonagall. "I thought you were the one who advocated 'peace' as the new-age buzzword."

"Sure didn't spell 'Malfoy' when I did."

Professor McGonagall nods lightly as she approaches. Harry immediately moves on to lead the way, leaving Hermione to make first eye contact with Draco Malfoy. She regrets it almost immediately.

"Morning, Granger," says Draco, with his signature lip curl in place. "You need to tell Weasley to ease off the humping if you want to have more stylish bedhair."

"Thanks for your daily dose of sexual advice, I really appreciate it," Hermione shoots back almost instantly. "Might want to apply it to yourself if you want to keep your voice. That scratchy tone makes you sound like a strangled chicken."

"Oh no, it's all part and parcel of Position Number Forty-Three. You compromise the voice for the –"

Hermione really isn't in the mood for this, but she rolls her eyes anyway and mutters, "I dare you to continue that at triple the decibels."

"Granger, you're the one who said I'm losing my voice."

For a moment, they look at each other through narrowed eyes.

It is Draco whose smirk widens into a grin first. "Must say you're doing quite well."

Hermione merely shoves him with her elbow. "We have to get inside, cocky fellow. Business time first."

As they trot in after the procession of Hogwarts and Ministry leaders, Hermione can't help casting a quick glance at Draco.

"Missed me?" he asks smoothly.

She rolls her eyes again. "No, but you have the chance to make me jealous with your oh-so-exciting life."

"Why yes, only Granger would be jealous of a professor's life."

"You're continuing a great man's legacy! Why wouldn't I be?"

"That's blasphemy."

"I wasn't being sarcastic," Hermione says with a frown. "Professor Snape really left big boots to fill."

"Bloody big," mutters Draco. "Whereas the little bastards are too big for theirs."

Hermione snorts. "I don't know how you became an educator, really. The kind of things that go on in your mind."

"Well you see, I keep them in my mind and don't let them wander into other people's. Yours just happens to be a bit more permeable..."

"Oh really?" Hermione can't help the snide tone. This is exactly why she doesn't really want to talk to him today, because she doesn't want to overthink things. Yet somehow, she can't stop herself from doing so. She continues, "I thought you act them out with Parkinson."

"Don't talk to me about that woman."

Something freezes inside her. "Why not? Did she... did she leave or something?"

"No, she's happily prancing around my house as if she owns the whole damn place," he replies sharply.

She's not quite sure if the odd feeling pooling within her stomach is that of relief or something else. So Pansy Parkinson's still sticking to Draco Malfoy. She's not hooking up with anyone else.

Maybe.

-.-.-.-.-.-

_"Don't do this to yourself," Ginny whispers. "The two of you need to talk, this can't go on any longer."_

_"Don't tell Harry, please... please don't."_

_"Till now, you're still trying to protect my brother?" Ginny demands. "You know, I love my brother dearly, and I daresay even more fiercely than you do. But even I wouldn't protect him; you need everybody on your side now!"_

_"Maybe you saw wrongly..."_

_"It was dark, yes, but I've got sharp ears and I can tell who that bratty, slutty voice belonged to. As for my brother, I know him inside out and would identify him even if he was turned into a tadpole because he would be the one to swim in circles. He's stuck in a rut and so are you," Ginny says angrily. "The two of you hardly see each other and talk to each other anymore."_

_"So it's my fault now?" It's her turn to get angry. "It's my fault that I decided to work so bloody hard for our future and when I try to make time for him, he's just never around, and now he goes out and screws another girl whom I have absolutely no idea what he sees in her?!" She is hysterical, but she can't care less. "And you just said I was protecting him!"_

_"I'm not taking sides. I'm just not letting this go on."_

-.-.-.-.-.-

"Granger, don't zone out on me. You're the only means of slight excitement here." Draco scowls. "All these perfunctory visits are boring the bloody hell out of me."

"Well then, you could go home and be further entertained," retorts Hermione, her mind half on Ginny reprimanding her, and half on the thought of Pansy Parkinson literally prancing around the Malfoy Manor.

Then when Draco doesn't reply, she suddenly realises that she might have overstepped a line. "I'm sorry... I was only referring to Parkinson, I wasn't talking about..."

"My mother's not dead, you don't have to tiptoe around her as a subject as though it was bad luck and taboo," he says sharply.

Hermione hesitates, before she drops her voice to barely a whisper. "How is she?"

When his jaw hardens visibly, she reaches out tentatively for his elbow. He pulls back instinctively. "Don't."

"Draco..."

His entire body has gone all stiff, like he used to be. Not right after the War ended, for he was a snivelling, shaking mess hiding behind his mother when smoke and debris were still fluttering around the ruins of Hogwarts. No, it was during the post-War ceremonies, where he was made to attend in a starched suit and a reportedly repentant heart. He had gone up to Harry, Ron and Hermione to apologise through gritted teeth – the first two had been done almost emotionlessly (and accepted with great reluctance particularly on Ron's part).

When it came to Hermione, his mask came down. A twitch of the lip and the glistening teardrop at the edge of his eye was enough to make Hermione lean forward and hug him. Till today, she doesn't know what overcame her at that moment, but all she knows is that Draco had hugged her back tightly and whispered 'I'm sorry' over and over again, his breath hot and ragged in her ear. Harry and Ron had pulled him off her a second later, but from then on, Hermione had tried her very best to treat Draco Malfoy as a brand new man and he seemed to have gladly accepted her olive branch.

"Yeah, she's not dead, but she's seen better days," he finally grunts.

The look on his face tells her that she shouldn't probe further. In fact, he keeps that expression on all the way through the entire visit in which Shacklebolt goes through the various Ministry's newest policies in great detail and discusses possible collaborations with Professor McGonagall and Harry and Ron are trying their best to look their best as they chip in every now and then with their very valued two-cents worth...

She keeps her eye on Draco Malfoy the whole time. Part of her wonders how he _really_is feeling, but another part of her – a larger one, in fact – is dying to ask him something. Something which she's not even sure he has the answer to, or that she even wants an answer to in the first place.

At the reception, she finds Harry deep in conversation with Professor McGonagall, but Ron is nowhere to be seen. Draco walks up to her with an arched eyebrow and casually comments, "Maybe he woke out of his Amortentia stupor."

"What?"

"In love with you for so long even though you've trampled all over his dignity and intelligence? Has to be a love potion's work."

Hermione draws in a sharp breath.

-.-.-.-.-.-

_She finds herself sitting down obediently to a breakfast table talk with him the next morning, but she isn't sure what was supposed to come out of it when all she can ask was what he has been doing all night. He murmurs that it was another official duty and that he is tired and needs to go to bed._

_She whispers, "Do you still love me, Ron?"_

_His stoic expression cracks at that very moment. "Why don't you ask yourself that question, Hermione? Do you still love me?"_

_He leaves before she can answer._

-.-.-.-.-.-

Hermione glares daggers at Draco. "Does every conversation we have _have_to begin with you putting down my relationship with Ron? Or for that matter, maybe you're actually just putting me down?"

"You don't have to read between the lines, Granger," says Draco, smoothly.

Hermione scans around the room quickly, then sucks at her bottom lip, all the indignance in her deflating. "Yeah. Maybe there aren't even lines to read in the first place, I don't know why I think there are."

"Cryptic," says Draco, clipping a glass of wine from a nearby waiter and offering it to her. She takes it and swirls the glass without drinking. He smirks. "Care to continue?"

"Now you're the one creating unnecessary lines."

He doesn't retort and merely looks at her thoughtfully. Then his eyes grow a bit narrow and she knows that Ron is behind her.

Draco's lips are curled in an odd way as he nods slightly, but Hermione turns to see that Ron's expression is stone cold. She purses up her lips, but Ron doesn't meet her gaze. Instead, he turns away with his plate of food.

Hermione lets her gaze linger a little longer before she turns back to Draco, who smirks. "Don't bother explaining," he drawls. "I can survive on this earth without a morsel of good faith from a Weasley or a Potter."

"Yeah, you all have survived all this while, great for you," retorts Hermione.

Draco arches an eyebrow.

"Oh don't give me that condescending look, you aren't any better at making things more peaceful!"

"Granger, I didn't even open my mouth," says Draco, now clearly annoyed.

"You did before that!"

"I didn't do it in front of his toady face."

"You see, you see?!"

"Are we really having this conversation?"

"I don't even know why I care so much!" Hermione suddenly feels tears pricking at her eyes and feels horribly foolish. She blinks them back furiously and turns away.

"Granger?" Draco's voice mellows.

She holds up a hand, but she can feel it trembling. "It's okay. I'm okay."

He grabs her by the shoulder and turns her back around. She struggles, but to no avail, and her glimmering eyes are sure to catch his attention.

"I swear I didn't mean to make you caught in the middle," says Draco, a little awkwardly now. "You know the bad blood between Weasley and I isn't going to dissolve just with a few strained apologies and a generally more amiable air in the wizarding world."

"It's not that!" Hermione bursts out. Then immediately, she covers her mouth and squeezes her eyes shut.

"Relax. Everyone else is busy being ambassadorial role models." Then a while later, "Granger, I'd like to think that you and I are the ones on civil terms." Pause. "I mean, you can uh, talk to me."

"Can we go somewhere quieter?" Hermione's voice is cracking and she really wishes to bury herself in a hole now.

Draco doesn't reply; he merely reaches out to take her wrist gently and leads her through the crowd of Ministry and Hogwarts officials. Eventually, they are alone in a corridor where Hermione just leans against the wall and closes her eyes.

"It's more than just these awkward relationships, isn't it?"

Draco Malfoy always has a sense of superiority in his voice whenever he speaks to her; she likes to think that it's programmed in the Malfoy blood, but that just lends weight to the whole ridiculous concept about how genes determine one's character. Furthermore, she has spent the last few years scrubbing the Ministry clean of any lingering strand of such notions.

The sense of superiority has taken on a more amusing tinge ever since she's got to know him better. But it's always there.

This time it isn't. It's the first time she's hearing him sound so humble, like he's really meaning to listen to her.

"Just the crowds," she replies faintly.

Draco snorts. "Are you testing my emotional intelligence, Granger?"

_Humility can't last beyond ten seconds_, Hermione thinks wryly as she twists the silver band on her ring finger. Her eyes flicker to Draco's bare fingers, then up to meet his intense gaze.

"I did hit a sore spot, didn't I?" Draco asks quietly. "And it's not about a love potion, is it?"

"You're asking a lot of rhetorical questions." Hermione gives him a sour look.

"Well then, thank you for humouring me when I'm just talking to myself." He bows exaggeratedly. "But you know, we're supposed to be..." He now looks a bit uncomfortable as he gestures to Hermione awkwardly. "Talking about you. Or something."

_Yeah, we're supposed to be talking about me,_ thinks Hermione. _I want to tell you everything. I want you to make me feel better. But I don't know how to start. I don't know if I should be saying this. I don't want to believe anything is happening._

Yet I feel like it's my fault. Is it, Draco? Is it?

"Granger?"

Draco's voice shakes her out of her reverie. She follows his gaze and realises that she has unwittingly pulled off her wedding ring.

"Granger..." Draco's voice is now pained and she suddenly hates the way he sounds – in that moment, she wishes he was the old Draco Malfoy again so that his cruel sarcasm will trick her into thinking it's all unreal.

But he's not the old Malfoy anymore and she can't help whispering, "What would you do?"


	2. Chapter 2

"What would you do?"

Draco doesn't have an answer for her. He doesn't even know if she is expecting one. All he can do is to tear his eyes away from hers because the desperation in them makes him ache inside. She's not the one who's supposed to be sad. It's him who was supposed to have a hard time picking up the pieces after the War. He had even mentally prepared himself to face worse times, not least because his mother had fallen into such a state of severe depression that made him horribly angry and despaired all at once. It was Hermione Granger who made him feel like there was a glimmer of something good waiting for him in the distance despite everything that had transpired.

No doubt, she made him jealous. She had her best friends, one of whom was the love of her life, the man she couldn't wait to marry after the whole shadow of war was cast aside. Some part of him still heavily despised Ron Weasley for his heritage, but the rest of his intense dislike really stemmed from how easily Ron had managed to capture Hermione's heart. Sure, he himself had managed to get a dozen Slytherin girls clamouring after him, but –

_Who really compares Pansy Parkinson to Hermione Granger? _

Then next, _what am I thinking? _

He looks at the silver ring in her hand and instinctively, his lip curls. He wants to give her hope like she did for him, but what good would that do? Perhaps he's being selfish, but how would any form of generosity benefit her now?

His fingers reach out awkwardly for hers; he can almost feel her fingertips. At that very moment, he hears his name being called. Then Hermione's.

"They're looking for us," he says, flatly. "We should go."

Hermione looks like she's searching for an answer in his eyes, but when he gives her nothing, she sighs and makes to move.

"Granger..."

She stops short.

"Meet me in my office after work."

She doesn't turn back; she trudges out of the dim corridor and he follows. In the atrium, Professor McGonagall is getting ready to leave; she's giving parting words to Potter and Weasley. Then the Hogwarts entourage shakes hands with the Ministerial party.

Draco finds himself before Weasley. Yet, it's not just the death glare that Weasley is giving him, but the cold, brittle heart inside him that Draco wishes to shatter into pieces so that Granger won't hold onto any more false hope. He doesn't know what Ronald Weasley has done to her, but he's pretty sure that he's not letting it go.

The two of them shake hands in a grip so firm Draco can see his knuckles turn white.

He leaves with the other professors without another look at Hermione Granger.

He spends the rest of the day bustling in and out of classes and his office, his routine for the past three years. While he's used to it, not everyone is. In fact, nobody has really gotten used to Draco Malfoy being in the grounds of Hogwarts once again, let alone being an educator. There had been quite an uproar amongst parents to note a former Death Eater assuming a role that put him in contact with the vulnerable minds of their children, but Professor McGonagall had been determined to give him a chance and insisted that Professor Snape would have wanted nobody else but Draco to succeed him. Still, Draco could sense trepidation emanating from all corners that had nothing to do with his character at present and everything to do with his history.

He glances at the clock and sees that there's still an hour before Granger will be due to arrive. He could go get a change of clothes; one of the imbecilic twins in his last Potions class (not unlike those dratted Weasleys – them again!) had spilt (clearly not by mistake) not one, but _two _large drops of Wickledy Juice onto his robes. The highly viscous liquid had left a most unflattering patch on the fabric, though thankfully, imbecility also translated to incapability and the patch didn't have the potency of acid burn as the original Juice was supposed to have. Still, it would be better if he looked a bit more presentable.

Draco goes to the outskirts of the castle and Apparates to the front of the Malfoy Manor. The gates open with a flick of his wand and he trudges in. The surrounding garden, once blooming with a riot of colours thanks to his mother's deft fingers and creative mind, now fell into a gnarled mess. He thought bringing a girl to stay and be a companion to his mother might help revive the dead place, but clearly, she only turned out to be a burden and refused to leave.

The thought of Pansy Parkinson screeching at the few servants left made his head throb. He wipes that out of his mind as he pushes his house doors open.

His heart stops for a millisecond.

There are definitely some things that can't be so easily erased from his mind.

The two people before him jump apart, but that split second before was enough to know what was going on.

Draco slams the door behind him, creating a huge reverberation around the house. Pansy stays put, arms folded and looks nonchalantly at him, but he's not interested in looking at her. Instead, his gaze is fixed upon the other person, the man, who is trying hard to look determined but failing miserably.

"If you're done checking Weasley out, I suggest you make a move because I'm not done with him," says Pansy, smirking.

Draco narrows his eyes at the man before him, whose face is now flushed a deeper shade of red than the roots of his hair. The message is clear and bright to him: _Why – why would you do that? Why would you hurt her like this? _

"Mal –" Ron Weasley's tongue seems to have tied itself into knots, but he doesn't even have time to try unknotting it because Pansy is already launching her lips onto his.

Draco doesn't wait to see anything or hear either of them say anything more. He loses himself in a swirl and wishes it takes him backwards in time instead of forwards in space. He lands in his office with his eyes firmly on the dirty patch on his robes and he snarls. The ticking of the clock now annoys him more than anything, and he throws a spell at it, bringing the glass crashing loudly to the ground.

The next ten minutes are spent clearing the glass shard by shard, each shard accompanied by a swear word of sorts. He should be furious with Parkinson for playing the sympathy card all the time, but he's always felt that there was no love lost in the first place. He really didn't give a shit about what she thought. It was Ron Weasley whom he hated to the core at that very moment and wished that the old jerk in him had resurfaced and socked Weasley hard so that his protruding nose of his would go stick into his throat and gag him.

Eventually, the dreaded knock on the door comes. Hermione doesn't wait for his invitation; she walks into his office and sits in the chair before him without uttering a single word and he hates her for that, because it means he's obliged to fill in those empty spaces with words that she probably doesn't want to hear.

"I know," is all he can manage.

When she still doesn't say anything, he can't hold it in any longer. "For Merlin's sake, Granger! What is it that you want me to say? You don't need me to tell you what you already know, neither do you need me to tell you it's all going to be okay, so what is it that you want?!"

Hermione smiles bitterly. "Because you're the only one who knows what it's like to dream of the world, the universe, only to be brought down heavily into the mud, stuck and unable to move."

That stings harder than he had expected. "Way to bury the hatchet. Dig up all that dirty past and throw it in my face and expect sympathy."

"And maybe because you could trick me into believing that I really am that inadequate and that's why he's got to turn his head away."

"You can't be serious," says Draco, losing his sneer at once. He gets up, rounds the table and stares at her. "You think Weasley left you because you are 'inadequate'? Really?"

"Then what?" demands Hermione, standing up immediately and meeting his incredulous gaze. "If anything, Ronald Weasley is one of the bravest, most loyal, earnest and genuine men I've ever known!"

"Genuine?" Draco snorts. "It's a wonder you can say that with a straight face."

"He is!" She stamps her foot.

"Then why is it that you've come here as a lost soul?" He reaches out to grab her hand, despite her flinching.

Hermione's face crumples. "I don't know," she whispers.

_I wish you jolly well knew! _Draco clenches his fists. He hates it that he has become an open door for her and he doesn't have the power to shut it himself. In fact, he doesn't have the power before her _anymore_, not ever since third year where she punched his jaw crooked. That was what he admired most about her and now, what he dreaded the most.

It didn't stop him from tugging at her, however, to pull her into his arms and bury his head in her hair. It seemed like a lifeline to her, since she immediately wrapped her arms around him and started to sob.

_Damn it, Granger_, he thinks once again. Instead, he mutters, "I wish we could go back to the times when I insulted you and all I did was feel smug and not guilty."

"You would," she murmurs back, in between sobs and sniffs.

He breathes in her scent as he hugs her tighter. _You're the one who's brave, loyal, earnest and genuine. He's the one who should be losing out, not you._He can't articulate those words, but he hopes that she feels it.

Unfortunately, he's _always _hoping and that's all there is to it.

What he does say is, "You're the kind of person who leaves a bit of herself behind wherever she goes. You have that kind of presence. But this time you're stuck. Sooner or later, that fragment of yourself is going to cut you. You have to make a decision."

That sounded neutral enough. When she finally whispers, "Thank you," he does know that she has got it this time.

-.-.-.-.-.-

Two months on, and Draco thinks that he ought to be feeling somewhat happier now that Hermione Granger has chosen to spend most of her free time with him, either helping him with some office research or chatting over a freshly brewed cup of coffee in Hogsmeade. She doesn't seem to mind that there are people watching their every move and whispering about them – not that he really does; he's so used to it already. It's just that he feels that there's a lot more to what she's been revealing, because all she's said ever since is that she's moved out to a rented apartment of her own and has occasional dinners with Harry and Ginny.

"Hermione?" Draco finally ventures, after a rather lighthearted coffee conversation about ridiculously extravagant parties organised by the Ministry's Public Relations unit to drum up support for certain campaigns.

Hermione looks at him quizzically. After all, he rarely ever uses her first name unless he's being very serious about something.

"I've always pegged you as rather different than most girls," he muses. "But when you say nothing's wrong, I'm not convinced that's the literal truth."

She leans back in her seat and looks out of the window. "What does it matter anyway?"

"Did you ever give him the uppercut like you did to me in third year? 'Cos that arsehead really deserved something more than you yelling your head off at him."

"I did neither."

"Hermione, stop being nice to that dick!" Draco sits up straight to glare at her. "Two months of avoiding it is enough!"

She stares at him in surprise. Then she sighs. "I had to bear some responsibility too... I just –"

Draco can't believe his ears. "What the hell?"

Before Hermione can say anything, he's already out of his seat and grabbing her wrist. He tosses a sack of money onto the table, then pulls her out of the café. She's tugging and shouting at him, but he doesn't care as he holds her tight against him and closes his eyes. A few twirls and swirls later, they are in front of the Burrow.

"Oh no, no, no..." babbles Hermione. "You are _not_doing this."

"Yes, _we_are."

"Malfoy, you – big – bully!" Hermione tries to pull away from his grip. "It was over – and – done – with!"

"Oh yeah? What, you guys had a little handshake over tea and scones and decided that for Pottyhead's sake, you guys will maintain a comfortable distance and maybe the next time you meet, the best is a little peck on the cheek for a greeting?" Draco's voice is rising as he tugs Hermione towards the entrance.

She pulls out her wand as she stumbles along. "Don't make me do this, Draco Malfoy!"

"HEY!"

Both Draco and Hermione stop short. Then turn around.

Ron's behind them.

"Oh. My. God," whispers Hermione.

"What the bloody hell are you doing here?" Ron demands. Then he stares at Draco's iron grip on Hermione. "And what the bloody hell do you think you're doing to her?"

Draco refuses to let go of Hermione, even as he feels her wand tip quivering at his elbow. Instead, he sneers. "Now you care, Weasley? After you decided to shag another girl and broke Hermione's heart in the process?"

Ron isn't looking at him, however; he's looking straight at Hermione with narrowed eyes.

"Oh my God, oh my God…" Hermione takes the chance to snatch her hand out of Draco's grip and sparks are flying out of her wand as she backs away pointing it at him. "Draco, get us out of here at once or you'll regret it."

"What are you doing?" Ron demands once again, completely bewildered.

"Nothing, really, it's just one of those days he forgets to take his pills," says Hermione, with a fake smile plastered on her face.

Draco shoots her a completely incredulous look. "Excuse me? Who's the one who's been on denial medication all this while?"

"I'm not denying anything!" Hermione cries, exasperated. "It's just –"

"Right, there's nothing to deny when it comes to this man, is there?" Draco glowers at Ron.

"You didn't tell him?" Ron asks quietly.

"Tell me what?" demands Draco. "And stop brandishing that stick in my face!"

"I didn't see a need to!" retorts Hermione. "I should have just hexed you at the café!"

"What?"

"I'm not sure what you see in this bloke, Hermione," says Ron, tersely. "But he's really daft."

Draco pulls out his wand.

"No, no, no..." Hermione jumps in between both of them. "Okay, that's enough, Draco Malfoy! You're going back with me!"

"Are you two living together now?" Ron asks, his voice a little shaky.

"_No!_" Hermione's all indignant. "No, I just wanted to –"

"Am I hearing this correctly?" Draco snorts. "Are you jealous of me, Weasley?"

He can hear Hermione make an extremely frustrated noise, but he's more focused on trying to crumple Weasley's expression.

"No, I'm just tired of seeing you, even if I haven't in two months," says Ron, sharply. "Now will you just go?"

"You bloody bastard," spat Draco. "You think you can just strut off like you've never done anything –"

"Okay, if you aren't going, I'm going." Ron nods his head slightly at Hermione. "Goodbye."

Ron walks off, though more haggardly than cockily. Draco makes to run after him, but Hermione's wand is now right in his face. As Ron eventually closes the door of the Burrow behind him, Draco turns to cast a bewildered look at Hermione, only to get himself socked in the face.

"OW!" Draco clutches his nose, the pain searing through his entire facial structure. "What the bloody hell was that for?!"

"For taking things into your own hands!" Hermione cries, tears now streaming down her face. "For thinking you're – you're so bloody smart that you can figure everything out, that you know what I'm thinking or feeling or how everything's supposed to pan out the way you want it to be! But you don't even know what happened!"

"Well then, maybe you can enlighten me, Miss Little Know-It-All!" Draco sneers as he clutches his wand even more tightly. "You're the one who decided not to say a word about it and let that bastard ride over your sense of conscience with a few flimsy excuses!"

Hermione wipes her face with the back of her hand haphazardly. "I just wanted to move on! Is it so hard to ask of you to let me start on a clean slate?!"

"Hermione!" Draco steps forward to grab her shoulders and shake her, though she struggles against his grip. "Wake up! He's not the Ronald Weasley you knew in the past! He's a first-rate arsehole and you shouldn't be letting him get the satisfaction of screwing another girl and screwing up your life at the same time!"

"You want to know who are the first-rate arseholes?" Hermione glares at him fiercely. "It's not him! It's both of us!"

Draco gapes. "_What? _Hermione Granger, what the hell are you talking about?"

Hermione grips her head, then stuffs her wand back into her pockets, paces around and throws her hands into the air. Then she walks back, her eyes red and puffy as she whispers, "He was a cheat, Draco. He cheated on me. But we cheated in the first place."

"Wh-what?" Draco splutters. "I didn't do anything – I didn't – look, the last time we ended up on that bed – "

"Draco, it's not like –"

"...it was an accident, we didn't do – I just put the covers –"

"Draco!"

"I kept to my side of the bed and – what the hell, we didn't even –"

Hermione grabs his hands and he stops talking. "It's not that!" she hisses. "That was just a stupid collaboration research trip and you got locked out of your room and the master key was broken so you had to room with me, I _know_, and I'm fine with that whole situation, okay?!"

She massages her forehead before continuing, "You broke Pansy Parkinson's heart in the first place, that's why she wanted to take revenge and spite you! That's why she's refused to move out of your place using the claim that she's the only one who can converse with your mother without riling her up, that she goes after Ron because she thinks you're spending far more time with me than with her!"

Draco blinks rapidly. _Eh?_

Then he narrows his eyes. "O-kay. Then what's your cheating story like?"

At this, Hermione's shoulders sag and she hangs her head. Draco's rather startled by the turn of events that now, he's just waiting for answers. He doesn't want to presume anything more because it's clearly gotten him nowhere.

She sits down in the middle of the field, the tall reeds obscuring her face as she speaks, "He's been lonely. He's the one who's been lonely all this while because I've been buried in work and having meetings and –" She laughs bitterly. " –hanging out with people who are not him and Harry, basically. I never really thought how much I wasn't spending time with him. He tried to talk but I always felt like his problems were trivial, like the amount of workload he had was _nothing _compared to mine, that if he was bored or needed company, he always had Harry and Ginny to look to. He was hanging out with Neville back then too, so I felt like I was giving him space to have bro time or something."

She draws in a deep breath, then continues, "Then he met Pansy at some random dinner party and she drugged his drink... and one thing led to another."

Draco scoffs immediately. "And you swallowed that whole? Granger, are you –"

"I cast a Lie Detector charm while he was telling me all this, without him knowing," says Hermione, fiercely. "Believe me, it's so ridiculous when I have to hope that he was lying about this, that he actually _wanted_to go to bed with her, so that I could feel better about myself!"

Her voice has turned bitter again. Draco turns his gaze to the distance.

"I had begun hanging out with you pretty often," she mutters. "I'd drop by your office to discuss about research and we'd end up talking for hours..."

"I'd like to call that a productive use of time, really," mutters Draco.

"...and I've never ever had that with Ron," whispers Hermione. "Ever. The only similarly long conversations Ron and I have ever had are those of petty arguments."

Draco stiffens slightly.

"You know when Ron told me all this, he looked me and asked me if I would do the same things with him. If I would be willing to spend so much time with him."

Draco rolls his eyes. "He's so bloody clingy."

"I had no answer."

Now he's completely rigid. He can't even flex his fingers and words are caught at the back of his throat.

"He wanted me to sense that I was losing him. He lost himself to Pansy when she reined him in. But I did nothing." Hermione's voice cracks. "That day when we were at the Ministry for Professor McGonagall's visit? It was the last straw for both of us. It was then that I really felt like I had lost him, and he thought he had lost me too."

Draco's throat feels parched as he croaks, "I don't understand."

"I didn't chase after him, Draco," whispers Hermione. "I could have, I should have, but I didn't."

"It's not your –"

"But it's my fault for holding him close and then losing him..." She sounds so miserable that he kneels down and reaches for her shoulder. "...and I didn't hold onto him because my heart wasn't with him!"

"I beg your pardon?" His voice has turned soft and quivering too.

Hermione looks up at him, her eyes glimmering with hurt. "I didn't want to admit it. I didn't want to admit I was the bad guy. But I was, Draco, because I let my heart be taken away by somebody else and never gave it back to him."

Draco returns her intense gaze.

He doesn't want to hope. He doesn't want to let _himself_ be the one to have his heart taken away and never given back. But when she said that, he can't help himself. He _knew_it. He hadn't imagined it.

He pulls her into his arms and she bursts out into fresh sobs.

"I don't care how guilty it makes you feel," he whispers, with his teeth gritted. "You may have hurt him, maybe you weren't even that faithful in spirit yourself. But he chose to break your heart and wound your pride by sleeping with another girl. Whatever excuse he has for that, it's complete bullshit. Bloody loneliness doesn't give him the right to make a cuckold out of you!"

Draco breathes in the scent of Hermione's hair before he continues whispering, "But Hermione, I'd never do that."

He can hear her breath hitch. His arms hold onto her even more tightly.

"I promise you," he continues. "Even though I know Malfoy promises have no value, no worth, but you're the one who saw value and worth in me."

He holds her away such that she's looking at him now, her eyes wide open. "I don't know how I can really ask you to give me a chance when I broke you in every way..."

His voice is shaking so badly now that he can barely articulate, but the flashes of the night in Malfoy Manor with Bellatrix cursing Hermione over and over again kept haunting his mind as he spoke. "I didn't help you. I watched you get shattered and I did nothing, but you turn up right at the end and you treated me like a whole new different person. I felt different the moment you forgave me, I don't know why, but... if you could see me then, then you can still see me in that new light. I –"

"You were always an entitled little brat fed with sarcasm, that hasn't changed much," Hermione mutters, but the corners of her lip were twitching.

Draco rubs his nose annoyedly. "Can you at least let me finish my clichéd speech? I stayed up all night just to memorise every single bloody word."

"I don't think I can bear to hear you say it," says Hermione, her tinge of mischief disappearing instantly. "After looking at Ron's face just now, I'm just reminded of – I don't know, Draco. That was why I wanted to just forget about it all and just have a good time with you. Maybe it will come to a point whereby I would genuinely like you because we are two single friends who found love, not two cheats who –"

"As much as I hate that we keep interrupting each other, I really don't consider myself a cheat when I clearly told Pansy I wanted nothing to do with her – it was really a case of being ruthlessly honest," replies Draco, even though his heart is thumping crazily now. "And as for you, you're looking for a new beginning, that's all."

"It's not that simple," replies Hermione, wearily.

Draco releases her from his embrace, but takes her hand instead. "Two single friends who found love, huh."

Hermione looks up, and he follows her gaze to the Burrow in the distance with its little smoking chimney. Without saying another word, he Apparates both of them back to the café where they were at, back in their seats with their cups of coffee before them half-filled with cold, viscous liquid. The aroma of freshly brewed coffee hits him, but he's more preoccupied with gazing at the woman before him.

She's staring at him thoughtfully, her eyes still beholding vestiges of weariness and pain. Yet, there is a sense of determination somewhere in there that really sparks that hope in him.

He takes his cup and makes a face at it. "This is disgusting! Are you satisfied with the product quality, Hermione Granger? I wouldn't peg you as someone settling for this kind of crap."

After a moment's hesitation, a small smile finally blooms on Hermione's face, wiping away the introspective look. Then she raises her hand in a most Granger-like way, calling out, "Waiter! Waiter! Please get us a fresh set of coffee and buns!" She looks back at Draco with an almost-cocky smile. "To a fresh start."

Draco leans back with the edges of his lips quirked up.

A fresh start indeed.

**FINE.**


End file.
